


At the Bottom of a Bottle

by AuroraExecution



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Angst, Drinking, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 08:44:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/685045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraExecution/pseuds/AuroraExecution
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was only one time that Grantaire had ever seen Enjolras drink to excess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the Bottom of a Bottle

**Author's Note:**

> An old fic from December 2011. I am eternally fascinated by Grantaire as a character, and I love the dynamic between him and Enjolras. I like to imagine in pre-canon the two of them have a lot of history.

There was only one time that Grantaire had ever seen Enjolras drink to excess.   
  
They had been younger then, and more easily swayed by emotion; the sculpture had not yet become marble, the angel had not yet fallen from grace.  Even then, Grantaire had adored his Apollo, because there had never been a time when he had not.  The difference was that Enjolras had looked upon him fondly, as somewhat of a friend; but then again, Grantaire had not yet wandered down the path of self-destruction then.   
  
Enjolras never said later what his reasons were, but that night, sitting in the dim café, he drank glass after glass of wine.  Some of this, Grantaire guessed, was due to youthful impetuousness and Enjolras’s lack of understanding about wine, but it seemed that the incident was also not entirely unrelated to the arrest and subsequent departure of some of the men who came to Enjolras’s republican discourses.   
  
The hours crept by, and the godlet drank on silently.  Grantaire said nothing and simply watched, meanwhile imbibing from his own bottle.  Perhaps, reasoned the drunkard silently, Enjolras was unaware he was drinking anything other than water?   
  
Sometime after midnight Enjolras’s head fell into his arms and his breathing evened.  For some time after discovering this, Grantaire admired the beauty of a temporarily fallen god.  Although, Grantaire reconsidered after a bit, perhaps it was simply a human who had momentarily lost the struggle for divinity.  A reversed Galatea, then?   
  
At the door to his rooms, Enjolras clung to Grantaire and asked him to stay.  Later Grantaire would realize this was undoubtedly a misdirection of Enjolras’s reaction to the loss of the members of what had not yet become Les Amis de l’ABC.  But in that moment, Grantaire was too far in his cups and thrown off-balance by the proximity of his idol.     
  
Afterward Grantaire would barely remember most of that night, but that there was warmth and heat and light, and Enjolras’s childlike pleading, “don’t go, don’t go, don’t go.”  Faced with this, Grantaire replied with promises to never leave and held Enjolras tightly in his arms.   
  
In the morning, Grantaire lay awake and whispered, “No matter what, you must never forget that I love you.”   
  



End file.
